


Crinkles

by cminerva



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: F/M, Giggly Laura, Humor, Laura is bored and horny, Romance, Smut, Tom has a pretty face
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:41:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25207141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cminerva/pseuds/cminerva
Summary: Inappropriate thoughts tend to lead to inappropriate actions.
Relationships: Laura Roslin/Tom Zarek
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	Crinkles

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Myself](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Myself/gifts).



> This was written as a birthday present for a dear friend - Ao3 user, Myself - based on our pet names for a certain Vice President. Some silliness ahead, though I think the smut balances that out nicely.

Another day, another quorum meeting. Laura Roslin could care less.

One of the children, the delegate from Sagittaron this time, was bitching about something or other involving the issue of prostitution aboard several of the ships in the fleet.

Prostitution. Sex.

 _Hmmm_ , Laura thought lazily, _sex_.

This thought led the president to turn her gaze towards the man who was permitting her to daydream during the meeting by leading it himself, Tom Zarek.

Sex. In a suit.

A small smile found its way to her lips as she gazed at her vice president. It seemed that her thoughts, and her gaze, were drawn to this man more and more as the days went by. He was a sight for sore eyes after staring at a room full of press hounds and squabbling quorum members.

Her eyes traced the crisp lines of his suit jacket as it stretched across his shoulders and down his arms. Sadly, her gaze was prevented from drifting farther by the table, so she was forced to flick her eyes upwards once more.

The curve of his ear looked particularly lickable and his hair was in such a perfectly coiffed state that it practically begged to be disheveled by a pair of eager hands. She knew a pair that would gladly do the job.

Tom was listening intently to the delegate from Tauron, though why he should care what that silly twit had to say was beyond Laura’s understanding. He smiled at a comment by the Picon representative and the lines at the corners of his eyes were forced into sharp relief. Gods how she loved those lines. Those cute wrinkles across his face, those…crinkles! Tom had crinkles!

Laura stifled a giggle at her own thoughts, attempting to pass it off as a cough. Tom turned to her and raised a questioning eyebrow to which she smiled broadly and flicked her hand for him to continue.

Crinkles, that would be his new nickname. One that would only be used in her head of course, along with Sexy Beast and a slew of other titles that she reserved solely for Tom Zarek.

This amusing new name lifted her spirits and helped her make it through the remainder of the meeting, though there were several other giggle incidents which she tried to cover by coughing, with varying degrees of success.

When the meeting had finally ended and the last of the intrepid representatives had filed out of the room, Laura and Tom were left to pack up their papers.

She was still shooting glances at him and giggling softly to herself when Tom finally threw down his briefcase and glared at her with mock exasperation as he flopped back into his seat.

“Okay, what the hell is so funny?”

This also struck her as amusing and she promptly dissolved into a fully fledged fit of giggles. Fortunately, Tom managed to catch her as she collapsed. He found himself with a lapful of Laura Roslin and not a single explanation for her behavior. On the plus side, he had a lapful of Laura Roslin.

In between bouts of laughter, Laura managed to squeak out the word “crinkles” before promptly losing it yet again and burying her face in the crook of his neck.

Much as he was enjoying his current proximity to the President, Tom wanted to clear the air, as it were, before he took advantage of the situation.

“Laura, have you been smoking anything recently?” he asked. “Anything you might have brought back from New Caprica for example?”

Laura pulled back quickly and nearly fell out of his lap; Tom’s quick reflexes and a hand on each of her thighs managed to keep her from tumbling onto the floor.

“I am not high!” she insisted indignantly. “Just horny.”

Tom’s eyebrows flew up.

“Oh really?”

Laura blushed furiously and cursed herself silently for letting that oh so secret information slip. While she was sitting in Tom Zarek’s lap with his hands all but up her skirt.

“Well, yes,” she responded coldly, “not that it’s any of your business.”

“Oh I think it became my business,” he told her.

“And when was that?” she snapped, still embarrassed.

“When you fell into my lap,” he answered, gripping her hips and twisting her body so that she was straddling him in the chair.

Laura gasped at this sudden change in position and rested her forehead against Tom’s, thrilled by this contact, yet wary all the same. An ethical dilemma stood before her; she could frak him right then and there and throw away any semblance of presidential decorum, or she could stand up and walk away. As Tom’s hand slid up her thigh and his thumb flicked across the crotch of her panties, she made up her mind and decided to hell with presidential decorum.

Her hands quickly found themselves tangled in his hair as she kissed him, his mouth parting under her insistent lips and teeth and tongue. Gods he was a good kisser.

He was also very talented with his hands as she soon discovered when she found herself unable to do more than trail her lips along his jawline, having lost control of her own body thanks to what his hands were doing under her skirt; his long fingers tucked inside her panties, stroking, teasing, thrusting upwards even as his thumb traced circles around her clit.

Dimly, Laura remembered that they were still in the boardroom on Colonial One and that anyone could walk in on them at any time. They could certainly be heard all over the ship if they weren’t careful. As Tom brought her to the edge, she bit down onto his shoulder to stifle her cries and just in time. With a final press of his thumb, Laura’s body tensed and then seemed to melt as a heavy wave of pleasure coursed through her.

Despite the marks she had undoubtedly left in Tom’s shoulder, Laura was pretty sure her scream had been heard throughout the fleet, never mind Colonial One. Through the haze, she saw that Tom wore a smirk on his handsome face. Rightfully so of course, but she could hardly let him get away with that.

Still shaking from her orgasm, Laura braced herself against the back of the chair with her left hand and with the other reached down to unzip Tom’s pants. _Well hello there, Mr. Vice President_.

Tom let out an appreciative moan as she stroked his length, but he was somewhat distracted by the rather difficult task of unbuttoning her blouse with his teeth, his hands refusing to relinquish their firm grip on her ass.

With Tom’s attention directed elsewhere, it came as something of a surprise to him when Laura lifted herself slightly and slid down over his cock in one smooth movement, the crotch of her underwear merely shoved to the side in her haste.

Tom groaned and rested his head against her chest.

“Gods Laura,” he muttered.

It was her turn to smirk. She did so as she slowly tilted her hips and trailed kisses across his neck and face. She returned her fingers to his hair and dragged his lips to hers, kissing him as she began to move. His hands on her hips helped set the pace as she slowly rose up and down along his length, sometimes tilting her hips for a better angle, grasping at his shoulders as her body was again brought to a maddening peak.

Tom’s mouth was hardly an adequate muffler for her moans, but they were both past caring. Tom’s grip on her thighs became more forceful as he pulled her closer with each thrust of her hips and his.

“Frak!” Laura’s exclamation was less of a scream this time and more of a sigh, expelled with what little breath she possessed as her second orgasm coursed through her.

With a final, bruising thrust of his hips, Tom followed her over the edge, his shout echoing through the room.

After a moment, Tom gave a soft laugh and shifted the hair back from Laura’s face to murmur into her ear.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to concentrate during a meeting ever again.”

“Mmm,” she sighed, “me either.”

As Laura continued to rest with her head on his chest, Tom ran his hands in gentle circles across her back.

“We should do this again sometime,” Tom suggested, after a pause. “But not, you know, here. Perhaps next time we could try it in a bed.”

Laura giggled.

“You never did tell me what was so funny,” he reminded her.

Laura merely grinned and began kissing his face across every smooth surface she knew would reveal a crease, a crinkle, when he smiled.

“Your face.”

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to LiveJournal in 2008.


End file.
